


Sketchy Rumors

by klutzysurgeon



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art Student Roci, I'm dying, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Med Student Law, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 23:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10932432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzysurgeon/pseuds/klutzysurgeon
Summary: When the rumors first start spreading, Law pays them no mind.At least, until that guy starts showing up inhisclasses, too.-----the college au you've all been waiting for with that quality mutual attraction/slow burn that we all love to suffer for





	Sketchy Rumors

When the rumors first start spreading, Law pays them no mind.

Students always like to gossip, and he’s been their target more than once with his sullen demeanor and strange tattoos. Any little thing can get you talked about; it was like that in elementary school, in middle school, in high school and it seems college is no different, but he’s used to it and tunes it out as background noise with practiced ease.

At least, until that guy starts showing up in _his_ classes, too.

It takes him awhile to even notice, since he tends to sit down and immediately pull out whatever relevant texts he needs. He rarely interacts with any of his classmates unless he strictly has to for projects and even then, he barely remembers their names two days later. Considering he thought it would be a bright idea to take eighteen credits in a single semester, he can barely remember his _own_ name some days.

But then he ends up sitting next to the blonde in two of his classes, so that makes it a little easier to notice. Especially considering his height— he's a few inches taller than Law, and it's rare for anyone to tower over him. At six foot three, he's certainly far from short.

Still, it’s not like he’s talked to the stranger. To be honest, he doesn’t think he’s ever even heard the man speak, never answering questions or piping up with his own. Which is just fine with Law; it would be annoying to get stuck next to a chatterbox. It’s weeks into the semester before he pays the blonde anymore attention, and it’s not quite in the way he’d expected.

Sure, the man happened to turn up in all of his classes, but he’d figured they were going for the same or a similar major. Biology isn’t that uncommon, after all. Not to mention the classes overlap with several other majors, plus he’s still dredging his way through required core courses that have nothing to do with anything remotely relevant.

But to find him _here?_

“Well, the instructor seems to have ditched us again. What a surprise,” Law mutters. At least he’s been through the routine enough times he doesn’t need the assistance, though it’s a little disconcerting to think of how many other uncomfortable models have been left on their own. Really, he needs to file a complaint eventually. “I’m sure at least half of you have done this before too, so I’ll just give you the basics.”

He shifts on the stool, settling into a basic crouching pose. “I’ll start off with five minute poses, and one of you had better keep time. Two or three of those and if you have any requests, state them clearly. Otherwise I’ll do a few dynamics for tens and finish off with a longer, more intricate pose. Good?”

A chorus of “yeahs” and affirmative hums is all he gets, but it's good enough. Everyone seems to take the hint to get started and he focuses on settling into his position, picking a spot on the wall to stare at and letting his mind drift. He knows if he looks, the blonde is sitting there as well— though now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know if he heard an affirmative from him.

Not like it matters, he supposes. He’s the model, not the instructor. It’s none of his business if the students are actually paying attention or not. More specifically that would be Giolla’s job, but evidently she has better things to do than what the college pays her for. If he had to guess, she's spending another six hours redecorating her office because it wasn’t _artistically pleasing_ enough.

He has to fight not to scowl when he hears the A/C kicking in; what fucking idiot left it on? Seriously, does no one bother to think how it feels to sit in a building, completely naked, with 64° air blowing? It feels like the beginnings of _hypothermia_ is what it —

“Time.”

Law reflexively looks towards the voice, nearly cursing himself for breaking posture until it registers exactly what was said and exactly _who_ said it. “What?”

“Ah, um, It’s been five minutes…” the blonde informs him, voice a much lower pitch than Law would have expected. Law blinks, shifting out of his pose entirely and stretching.

At least _someone_ is actually keeping time. “Thanks.”

The student just nods, switching to a new blank page for the next pose. Law decides to accentuate his tattoos this time around, splaying one hand in front of his face while the other stretches out as if he’s reaching for something, or someone. It’s always interesting to see how people depict him. He keeps his expression neutral, but some choose to make him look longing, inferring from his body language that he must be reaching for something that he wants.

In reality, he’s reaching towards a chip in the far wall’s paint because it’s easy to focus on.

Reality, however, doesn’t matter half as much as the artist’s interpretation of it. Law doesn’t know all that much about art— he’s trying to become a surgeon, and the fields hardly overlap— but even he’d read up on the basics when he first signed up for this job.

Perhaps not what he’d imagined himself doing part-time in college, but it pays far better than any other entry-level position available at more standard workplaces and it’s hardly like he’s shy. Bodies are flesh and bone and organs, complicated mechanisms in which aesthetics only matter insofar as to distinguish maladies.

“Time.”

He doesn’t jerk his head this time, though he does nod at the student in acknowledgement and silent thanks. In at least half of his classes, no one had bothered to keep time and only the stiffness of his joints would alert him it had been too long. He would set his own alarm, but the harsh beeping caused some students to jostle and ruined their art, so he deals with it.

This time he strikes a pose to make them uncomfortable, smirking slightly before settling his face into a neutral mask once more. Hands behind his head and body angled just so, it’s a good exercise for them to practice the muscle structure of his abs as well as the way his tattoos shift and stretch on his torso and back…

...but the pose is more typical of a pin-up model, and he can almost tangibly feel the discomfort of one or two artists who are doing this for the first time. He can’t look and see for certain but he knows they’re spending an ungodly amount of time on his face so they can avoid focusing elsewhere and really, it’s quite amusing. Like trying to be a doctor if you’re squeamish around blood, he can’t imagine they’ll ever make it as an artist if they can’t handle drawing a naked body. And if they’re going to switch, best to weed them out early before they’ve sunk too many credits into the wrong major.

“Time.”

This time when he glances at the blonde, he’s surprised to see him glancing between the sketchbook and his pose, clearly comparing details much further south than his face. Well, good for him, Law supposes. That is what he’s here for. Mentally shrugging, he stands and stretches, rubbing at his neck. “Alright, I’m going to switch to the tens now. Any pose requests?”

Silence is unsurprising; students rarely have anything specific in mind. He picks a pose at random, a common “thinker” pose with fingers laced tensely so the tendons in his hands are more visible. Half the reason they’d hired him was for his tattoos, after all, so he tries to make use of them in every pose that he can.

His thoughts drift more to his homework and upcoming assignments until the blonde calls time again, settling firmly into his typical modelling spaced-out mindset until he’s through with his second pose and the strange student catches him off guard again. “Time… Um, I have a request.”

Law hums questioningly, smoothing any surprise out of his expression. After all, he did tell them they could request things, it’s hardly a big deal. “Could you, ah…” The student shuffles through a few sheets of papers, settling on a blank one. “Are all the expressions supposed to be neutral, or could you make some sort of face with the next pose?”

“Strictly neutral, since this is about drawing the figure and body language as a whole, not facial expression. But,” Law shrugs. “The teacher isn’t here, and I honestly don’t give a shit. Any expression in particular?”

The student shakes his head, blonde hair ruffling slightly as he does so and Law finally gets a good look at his eyes, a curious shade of brown. “No, anything would be good to practice with.”

“Alright.”

Anything, huh? Well, something over the top would be too easy to draw and unpleasant to hold for the full ten minutes. Law splays one hand over his neck, fingers poised as if to strangle while his other hand rests flush against his side as he twists at an angle, doing his best to look distant and anguished. Grief is popular in art, though he thinks it’s probably because grief draws people to outlets and art is just one outlet more than any sort of deeper philosophical meaning.

He has a minimum six page paper due in the morning and a very stiff neck by the time the blonde calls out this time, adding a quiet “Thank you” at the end. “No problem,” Law shrugs. “It’s what they pay me for. Last one. You’ve got the rest of this period which, since we actually stayed on time, is thirty minutes.”

The final pose is one done on the floor, sitting with one leg against his chest and the other cross-legged, foot tucked behind his leg. He leans to the side, one hand splayed over his face– fingers spread apart to leave his mouth and eyes visible– and his other hand posed in a “come here” gesture, two fingers up and curved towards himself. He decides to add a slight smirk, the expression easy for him to hold, and settles in for a long wait.

If he gets sick from the damn A/C making him shiver, he’s not only going to file a complaint against Giolla, he’s going to personally rearrange all the furniture in her office to make sure she has the fit of her lifetime. Might even record it.

Halfway through and his eyes begin to burn, though it’s such a familiar feeling by now it takes him awhile to even register it. At least the cold is helping him stay awake, plus he might be able to take a short nap if— no, shit, he really shouldn’t slack on studying with exams around the corner. Well. He has time to stop for a cup of coffee, at least.

Someone’s phone goes off and he can hear their mad scramble to turn it off, followed by the clattering noise of the phone most likely being dropped. Why is there always at least one idiot in every class that can’t get it through their skull that they need to put their phone on silent?

Resisting the urge to sigh, he lets his mind drift to other things, waiting for the blonde to call out. It’s nice, at least, to have a reliable timekeeper. Unexpected from the quiet man, but appreciated nonetheless. He’s a little surprised that neither Shachi nor Penguin has taken this class yet, honestly. Their respective majors of computer science and kinesthesiology don’t require arts classes, but signing up just to try and make Law break pose is exactly something they’d do.

“Time.”

The quiet, deep voice pulls him from his thoughts and Law yawns, standing and stretching with a quiet groan, spine protesting the angle he’d been in. He doesn’t bother saying anything this time; what student doesn’t know to leave class as soon as it’s over? Hell, some try to slip out _before_ it’s over. He’s nearly finished getting dressed when the blonde’s easel catches his eye and he finishes buttoning his shirt as he walks over, frowning. “Can I take a look at that?”

“Huh?” The student looks up from where he’d been packing away his bag, glancing between Law and his easel. “The… portrait? If you want, I don’t mind…”

He’s scowling.

At least, on the paper. It’s drawn in very good detail, actually, charcoal shading adding depth but his expression is a scowl, brows furrowed and mouth set with displeasure. Hadn’t he been smirking? “Did I scowl during the pose?”

“Oh. No, you looked like you were smirking… but I… well,” He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, gesturing towards the expression. “It felt more like you should have been scowling. Sorry, was I not supposed to draw it differently…?”

Law blinks, a little surprised by the apologetic attitude. “No, interpretation is highly encouraged.” And he _had_ been feeling agitated, he’d just been certain his expression wasn’t betraying it. For the blonde to be able to read him that easily… “You probably did better than anyone else in class. Thanks for letting me see it.”

The student offers him a smile, bright and genuine. “I’m glad you like it!”

The expression causes Law to pause, offering back a small smile of his own almost automatically before he picks up his backpack and heads out.

Maybe the blonde is taking this as an elective course, every major requires those. Or perhaps it’s a hobby? Lots of students take an irrelevant class or two just because it piqued their interest. Really, rumors always exaggerate things. The blonde seems nice enough. Law puts the man out of his mind, swiping through the flashcards on his phone as he heads to the coffee shop.

Now if he can just think of a topic for his paper, today will be a fairly good day.

**Author's Note:**

> hey so uhhhhh a friend and i were talkin' about this idea and then _well,_ my hands just went and did it so here we go


End file.
